


Nothing Else Matters

by QueenOfRohirrim



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Acceptance, Crossdressing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Jaskier Supports His Witchers, Kaer Morhen, M/M, Self-Hatred, Wolf Pack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:55:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24292447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfRohirrim/pseuds/QueenOfRohirrim
Summary: Jaskier discovers a secret of Lambert’s.Lambert is furious and ashamed.Jaskier helps him to cope and accept himself.
Relationships: Eskel/Lambert (The Witcher), Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion & Lambert
Comments: 15
Kudos: 446





	Nothing Else Matters

Lambert should have smelt Jaskier approaching before the bard had even reached the top of the staircase. He should have heard the peculiar, hopping footsteps from even farther away. Really, he should have just been more vigilant in general. Perhaps if he had been, he wouldn’t have been caught.

“Lambert?” Jaskier asked in that fucking stupid gentle tone that he always used when he knew something had Geralt upset.

The witcher was quick to shove the evidence of his snooping back into Jaskier’s wardrobe, slamming the doors shut in a panic.

“Shit, Buttercup! I could’ve killed you if I had a blade on me!” He growled at his brother’s bard. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing sneaking up on me like that?”

“I didn’t mean to frighten you.” Jaskier kept on with that soft voice. “You seemed to like that blue night shirt of mine.”

Now Lambert was really caught and his temper immediately began to rise.

“Bard, I fucking swear...”

“I won’t tell anyone if you want to try it on.” Jaskier offered, and now Lambert’s blood was boiling.

“Fuck that!” He growled, hurrying to leave the room and slamming his own door shut once he’d hidden himself away.

He threw a punch into the door of his closet, breaking another hole through the battered wood.

What the fuck was wrong with him? What the fuck was he even thinking, rummaging through Jaskier’s nightclothes? Why the fuck did he even want...Why did he want to wear things like that? Why? 

A knock came at the door and Lambert growled defensively. “Leave me alone!” He warned whoever was standing outside in the hall. 

“I don’t want to leave you alone. I want to talk.”

Fuck. The bard just didn’t know when to stop!

“Fuck off, Buttercup!” Lambert tried to dissuade him. It wasn’t that easy and he should have known better. Jaskier wasn’t taking no for an answer here.

“Lambert, this will stay between you and I.” He promised, even as the wolf was still opposed entirely to letting him in. “I just want to talk. May I please come in?”

Lambert ground his teeth together, frustrated beyond measure but knowing that there was probably nothing he could do to drive Jaskier away. “Do whatever the fuck you want.” He hissed. It wasn’t what he wanted to say, but he just couldn’t stop himself from being angry.

The door handle turned slowly and Geralt’s bard poked his head into the room, frowning when he saw Lambert crouched against his closet, the knuckles of his right hand scraped and bloody and a new hole in the wardrobe door.

“Oh, Lambert, my dear, let me see your hand.” He pleaded immediately, unafraid, as always, of the snarling wolf and its fangs. 

“Don’t bother.” Lambert muttered, yanking the injured appendage away from the bard when he grabbed it up in softer, more delicate hands.

“Now, I’ll not have any of this “It’s perfectly fine” business!” Jaskier huffed. “You witchers have very little regard for your own well being. Now, come back to my room with me, my dear. That hand needs patching up.”

Lambert refused, electing to stay sitting where he was near his closet, but Jaskier was having none of it.

“Lambert, stand up and come with me. Now, please.” He ordered, hands clasped firmly on his hips. The wolf growled, rolled his eyes, and, refusing to meet Jaskier’s gaze, he followed the bard back to Geralt’s bedroom.

Jaskier doctored his hand, plucking out a few splinters and cleaning the oozing wounds before rubbing the entire area with chamomile and wrapping it up. “There, darling wolf. That should take care of that.” He started to speak sweetly again. “You know, you really must find something softer and less prickly to punch when you feel the need to do so.”

Lambert hummed but said nothing, internally cursing himself for sounding far too much like Geralt. 

“May I ask you something, Lambert?” Jaskier inquired carefully as he finished with the bandages. “About the night clothes?”

Again, Lambert said nothing, but his cheeks reddened and he felt hot tears threatening to escape from the corners of his eyes. He wanted to hit something again instead.

“Shh shh, listen, my love, I’m not your enemy here.” Jaskier did his best to calm the agitated wolf, taking his good hand into one of his own and giving it a gentle squeeze. “I only want to know if you’d like to try a few of my gowns on...I have a lovely red velvet one that I think would look dashing on you.”

Lambert tensed and his eyes lit with fury.

“Lambert, there’s nothing wrong with wanting to wear something other than black and steel.” Jaskier continued to reassure him, despite the witcher’s resistance.

“Wanna make a joke of me, is that it?” Lambert snarled, pulling his hand free from Jaskier’s and crossing his arms tight around his chest. “If my brothers saw me in anything of yours they’d laugh so hard they’d shit their smalls!”

“Is that what you think?” Jaskier frowned. “You know, Geralt likes a bit of fancy fabric on me...Can I tell you a secret, my dear? I’ve convinced him a time or two to wear some lovely night clothes himself. Not like mine, but still...”

Lambert’s eyes turned so that they almost met Jaskier’s.

“I think that Eskel would be drooling like a hound if he saw you in some lovely silks.” The bard continued, examining his nails in that way that he did when he was all too confident about making a point.

“He...I don’t know what he’d think.” Lambert grumbled, looking back to the floor until Jaskier gently lifted his chin.

“He wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off of you.” He promised the dark haired witcher. 

Lambert got quiet and he was quiet for a long time. Jaskier ended up having to be the one to break the dreadful silence himself.

“Let’s try a few things.” He suggested gently. “If you decide you don’t like it, then we’ll stop. No shame in that.”

Lambert stiffened, but he didn’t storm off again when Jaskier went to his wardrobe to pull out a few different options.

“Now, let’s see...” The bard hummed as he skimmed through all of the night gowns in his collection. “I think a nice deep red would really bring out those golden eyes...Oh! And purple as well! Maybe a dark green...”

“Blue.” Lambert hadn’t realized that he’d actually spoken up at first, and his blush immediately darkened when he discovered that the thought had actually rolled off his tongue.

Jaskier simply smiled and nodded his approval. “The midnight blue, yes.” He agreed. “That will look stunning on you, sweet wolf! Let’s try some black velvet as well. You witchers do seem to make it work.”

Before he knew it, Lambert found himself agreeing to try on a few of Jaskier’s picks.

The deep red gown was the first thing he actually saw himself in. Its sleeves were long and the bottom of the garment stopped just above his knees. The neckline plunged low, showing off a well kept trail of black chest hair, and some silk lacing down the front gave the wearer or their lover an opportunity to reveal much more.

“Wow.” Jaskier’s eyes widened. “Look at you, you sexy thing! I was definitely right about the red bringing out those eyes...”

“It’s...I don’t...” Lambert felt like running again, hiding away in his bedroom and punching a few dents into the stone walls, but the more he looked at himself in the mirror, and the more praise he received from Jaskier, the more he actually wanted to see himself in other gowns.

“Let’s try that blue one you liked so much, shall we?” The giddy bard suggested, picking the silk nightwear up from where he’d placed it on the bed. “Though, I must say, I am partial to the red. It’s very flattering. You look divine, my dear.”

Part of Lambert wanted to punch Jaskier, but another part, a much bigger part, wanted to pull him close and squeeze him tight and just thank him over and over again.

“Eskel likes red.” The witcher swallowed hard. “I think he’d like this one too.”

“I believe you’re right.” Jaskier smiled, helping Lambert to change into another gown. The red was definitely a keeper, but trying a few more colors couldn’t hurt.

...

“I can’t fucking sleep with them carrying on like that...” Geralt growled against the crook of Jaskier’s neck.

Indeed, the sound of Eskel and Lambert’s shared enjoyment was a bit troublesome for those trying to get a peaceful night’s sleep. The wall separating their room from the one Geralt shared with his bard was practically shaking as the headboard of the enamored couple’s bed continually slammed against it. Lambert’s shouts and heavy panting were even audible to Jaskier, as was Eskel’s animalistic grunting.

“I’m glad they’re happy at least.” Jaskier hummed sleepily. It wasn’t a lie. He really was happy for Lambert.


End file.
